Third Times The Charm
by Alidiabin
Summary: Jetlag tag. Paris is the third time they've slept together. Tony hopes the third time is the charm.


Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or Paris for that matter.

_**Third Time's The Charm**_

Anthony DiNozzo gazed at the moonlight Parisian skyline through the greasy window of the quaint and quirky Parisian hotel room. He avoided looking at the peeling wallpaper. He sensed Ziva's naked form hidden under the yellow bedspread. He fingered her warm shoulder. She murmured something in Hebrew, which even with Tony's limited knowledge of Hebrew, knew it was a good thing. He kissed her shoulder. His wind chapped lips kissing a small scar.  
"Third times the charm" he uttered.

The first time they had slept together it was in an elaborate hotel room as married assassins. They had spent hours fabricating sex and eventually Ziva had given in. Tony would later claim it was because no one was immune to the DiNozzo temptation. Ziva had decided to go all mossad on the mission and really sleep with Tony. Despite that fact their boss and director and unbeknownst to them half the FBI were watching.  
"Do it for real" she sultrily whispered into his ear just low enough so the ear piece didn't pick it up. He did not question the command.  
"Your wish is my command," he uttered in a low sexy voice. She deepened the kiss. Tony pulled a condom from the draw. Ziva giggled. It ended up playful as if they were showing off. She played in coy. He was cocky. The first time they slept together, it had been for pleasure.

The second time had been in a grimy bar motel room above a bar. They had been told they were being relocated. Ziva had sprinted out of Vances office on the phone organizing flights, transport and packing. Tony had been angry and sulked off to the bar. She had walked in hours later. Her black dress not yet exchanged for something more comfortable. They did not acknowledge each other. She quietly ordered a drink.  
"So this is goodbye," Ziva whispered sitting on the stool next to him. They looked at each other. The magnetic charge between them (and the alcohol) brought them closer. Their lips crashed. Angrily smashing against each other like a stormy sea and cliffs.  
"No this is goodbye," he said leading her to the grimy motel room. She pulled the condom from his pocket. It was angry and violent. She was depressed. He was angry. The second time they slept together it had been for comfort.

The third time. It was different. Though it was not planned. It had seemed fate was on their side. They accidently ended up in the same hotel room which unlike it's American counterparts was minus a couch. The hotel trying to apologize for their mistake had offered them a lovely candlelit dinner, which Tony never refusing free food had insisted they attend. After a glass of grape juice each (as they were forbidden to drink on the job) and mouth-watering food, it was discovered that Ziva had forgotten her pajamas. Ultimately meaning she emerged from the tiny en suite in a grape camisole with matching g-string.

Little Tony had voice his approval at the sight of Ziva.

She gracefully got into bed. Pretending to read her American history textbook. Every sexy librarian fantasy played in Tony's head. Of course, he knew he could not just rush into it. Ziva was not the same Ziva that commanded him in that hotel room five years ago and he wasn't the same Tony that angrily forced himself on Ziva in that motel room two years ago.

Tony touched her leg that stood bent above the covers. She looked at him. He looked back. There was no speaking. A small kiss. A soft intimate kiss. Their eyes locked. They consented. Lips softly touched. They got a taste. They liked what they sampled. The kiss deepened. Their lips crashed against one another like waves on cliff. There was no haste about it. It was soft. They took their time. The neighboring rooms would complain about hearing moans of names and foreign tongues until just before dawn.

The third time was different. A good different. Tony lay rubbing his finger on Ziva's olive skinned shoulder as the sun dawned over Paris. He closed his eyes.

He really hoped the third time was the charm.

A/N: I hope you like.


End file.
